Citrus Splash Potpourri
by Blackfire 18
Summary: Nona checks in on Decim after he judges Chiyuki. Each arbiter walks a fine line and each, it turns out, have been judging the other since the beginning. How else could Decim craft the perfect drink for his boss?


**Citrus Splash Potpourri**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Death Parade or any of the characters there within.**

Nona watched as the couple dueled one another over cribbage, each taking turns at large point hauls and what appeared to be predestined cribs. Onward the pins raced to secure the high score of 121. Down the pins stabbed in a sharp nerve, a bloody artery, a throbbing bone image displayed beside the pin holes. And with that pain arose a primal fear which always drove these tribunals over the edge—laying bare the true, self-preserving natures of the participants involved. Nona had seen it all; or at least every time she thought she had, these humans surprised her with their unusual call to arms in the face of death.

Nona watched the drama unfold as the pairs' memories resurfaced and slowly they pieced together their deaths leading up to entering the Quindecim. Tears fell. Snot streamed. Screams pierced the sanctity of the observatory room as threats and accusations flew. The women always seemed to catch on first. And those wild cards would tumble to either side of the sword in noble sacrifice or careful betrayal. She had already drawn her conclusions concerning the distressed pair.

Nona watched Decim step in when the husband armed himself with a shattered beer glass.

Decim.

Nona had found herself straying into the quiet arbiter's bar more often than she cared to admit. He was just as fascinating as the humans he judged. And, while more often than not, the emotions she had requested implanted in Decim remained latent, there were brief flashes of their workings below the surface. An uneasy pause. A widening of the eyes. A knit brow indicative of the contemplation of the feelings simmering just out of reach. His demeanor had changed minutely since the girl had passed on, though he still seemed not to know what to do with these foreign sensations.

And Nona watched him struggle. Unsure of how to guide him without firsthand experience herself. She had studied emotions intensively. She understood them and knew how each affected a person in a sort of strict textbook way. Centuries of observation informed the remainder of her vast experience. But she did not lay claim to the wealth of human sentiment personally and, at best, she and the other arbiters still solely relied on extreme conditions to illustrate what really resided in a person's heart.

Pressed to divulge the very ugliest of their natures. Shoved to the breaking point. Driven to madness. How could any expect to be granted reincarnation over the void when the will to live overtakes rational thought? Kindness became a shattered illusion before the shadow of death.

It was cruel in a way.

To the humans. To Decim.

The calculated steps she took to spark those buried emotions. The human girl she allowed judgment be spared on. The planted picture book. The murderous pair Decim was not quite fledged to take under his wing.

All pawns to satisfy some morbid curiosity under the banner of duty to God. Humans would forever be judged. But as to how…

God had been gone a long time and Oculus all too happy to assume the position. Fettering away his time—and hers—with endless games of galactic pool. If the old man had only kept his attentions on the table, he would have never been the wiser to the greater game Nona played. She may not have gambled with her life, but she certainly bet her livelihood on this gambit.

The arbiters' manager waited until the couple was sent to the elevators and subsequently dispatched before she returned to the bar's main floor. Nona rounded the corner just as Decim returned to his bar. She spotted the manikin sporting a startling resemblance to Chiyuki in a chair behind the bar. The girl had been sent a week prior. This was the first Nona had the time to swing by. Oculus was not happy with her and her immediate companions privy to the quest had endless questions concerning their future. All eyes on her. Her eyes on Decim.

It was all too soon to tell.

"Good evening, Decim," she hailed him. The arbiter turned with a mug and dishtowel in hand.

"Good evening, Miss Nona," he bowed to her. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, just a visit to see how things were going." Nona skipped up into the stool directly across from Decim and folded her fingers beneath her chin.

"Things are going well," Decim said. He waited when the tower boss simply stared and smiled at him with those piercing violet eyes of hers. "How are things for you?"

"Busy. As always." She sighed. "I could use a drink."

"The usual?" Decim set his items down and waited for Nona's confirmation before stooping for the familiar liquors.

Nona watched him prepare the beverage that brought with it a bevy of memories.

It had been a day similar to this one, though much earlier on in Decim's career.

Nona dropped in for an unannounced visit, kept a mental checklist of her arbiter's success and failings, and delivered the feedback to the Quindecim's bartender. He graciously accepted all of her criticisms with words of thanks and it pleased Nona to know that one in a tower with ninety floors knew grace and humility. Her militant approach to the young arbiter's growth fell to the wayside in favor of nurturing him. He brought out a softness in her she would have denied still existed after all these years.

* * *

"We'll be seeing each other every so often," Nona said. "I expect you to do your best with every pair that comes through here. Imagine I will be watching each exchange and you should do fine."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now make me a drink." The petite woman smiled, supporting her chin on the bar. "One I'll want to have every time I set foot in Quindecim."

Decim stared at her with his one blue eye. One of Nona's eyebrows rose.

"What is it?"

"Might I ask a few questions to decide which combination might best suit your palate?"

Most new arbiters fell back on their personal favorites when concocting a drink for the boss. Nona's smile grew.

"Very well."

"Thank you," he bowed to her. "First, how long did you serve as arbiter before becoming the manager?"

A crick folded the corner of Nona's mouth.

"I thought you might ask if I prefer sweet or sour?"

Decim blinked and he bowed in apology. "I am terribly sorry. I have already guessed at the more basic components surrounding your personality and preference based on the way you speak and carry yourself. I was being a bit underhanded in satisfying my curiosity to scry the more complex notes needed to create a drink that would suit you, Miss Nona."

"A judge judging a judge?"

Decim hesitated a moment.

"Yes."

The nails of Nona's free hand clicked on the bar.

"I see."

"Forgive me. Please disregard my blatant overstep of protocol and allow me to—"

"No, I said I would allow your questions, so I shall." Nona stretched and twisted a moment to buy time. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure how many centuries I played the role of arbiter—they tend to all roll together, you know? Day after day, month after month, pair after pair. And with the memory reductions it makes keeping track of time decidedly difficult. But how long? Hmm. Quin would say seven hundred, but I'd guarantee at least three. Been boss for more than seventy years."

"Thank you." Decim reached for an elegantly carved martini glass and retrieved orange juice from a fridge beneath the bar. "Second, where do you feel most at home?"

Nona hummed.

"At home," she said after a moment's pause. "On the veranda. Listening to the doves sing."

When she offered nothing more, Decim retrieved a bottle of spiced rum and orange sherbet.

"Thank you again. Third, as overseer of all the arbiters—what piece of advice might you pass on to a new arbiter?"

Nona exhaled a small sigh and traced one side of her widow's peak. The earnest bartender had his back turned to her as he consulted his wall of alcohol, waiting for her response. The woman glanced over her shoulder; no one else around and none expected to arrive. Her gaze flickered back up to her protégé.

"That you are capable of much more than you would believe possible."

Decim's arm hovered in the air, his back still to Nona as he processed what she said. He was still so long even Nona dared not draw breath. If only Decim could grasp the true meaning behind her words. That he was a precious foray into an everlasting change for arbiter conduct. A whole new means of judging that would be more fair to both parties involved. He was her fervent endeavor for revolution. He was her chosen one.

The maelstrom hovered about her, but Decim innocently went about his business; unawares.

The man thanked her and collected triple sec and a fresh lemon.

"To the last…do you prefer sweet or sour?"

Nona laughed aloud.

"I think you've already made up your mind," she teased, gesturing at the sprawl of items chosen.

"Indeed," Decim admitted and began to pour, scoop, and zest over the ice in the mixer. "A bit of both."

Shaken and strained, Decim poured Nona's drink and pushed the chilled glass toward her.

Nona took it and raised the martini glass to her lips for a sip. The sweet orange notes mixed with just a punch of bitters and Nona found herself savoring the taste with eyes closed. Decim knew his way around the Quindecim. She hoped the arbiter would develop as superior a skill with human emotion as he had among his many liquors.

"Very good," she murmured, eyes opening once more to put the waiting bartender into view. "I think you captured a tough to please palate."

Decim did not smile, but a trace of relief danced around the edges of his stoic demeanor.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Shall I note this as 'the usual?'"

"Yes," Nona drained the glass and her tongue darted over her lips. She pushed the glass back to Decim. "One more for the road?"

"Of course."

* * *

Decim finished quite before Nona was ready. The martini glass sat idle while those violet eyes stared. The bartender washed out the used beer mugs and began to dry them with a fresh cloth, surprised to see the woman had not touched the beverage he prepared. Nona usually downed the first with relish and immediately requested a second.

"Is everything all right, Miss Nona?" Decim asked.

The arbiters' manager blinked and gave a light shake of her head.

"Of course," she said, reaching for the glass and twisting the stem in her fingertips. In Decim's near five years of service, he had never seen the tower manager appear so distracted.

"I'm not sure I believe you," Decim stood as surprised as Nona when the words tumbled from his mouth. Despite the breach, Nona glanced up at him with a smile.

"You've a good eye there, Decim. An excellent trait in an arbiter."

"Thank you. I've grown more adept at reading what is left unsaid. If only it were more useful in drawing out what others are thinking."

"Indeed," Nona murmured. She swirled the liquid in her glass.

"I am happy to listen if you are willing to share."

Nona's violet eyes looked up into his. Knowingly or not, Decim released the pressure on her by drying a stack of dishes. He would not see her appreciative smile, but she knew he waited attentively.

"Oh," Nona had taken to twisting her glass stem again, "this project I have in the works is not progressing as quickly as I had hoped."

"I am sorry to hear that." Decim set down a dried wine glass. "Is there a deadline you must meet?"

"Of sorts."

"Might I be of assistance?"

Nona chuckled, but she finally sipped at her drink. This indulgent smile was not lost on Decim.

"You're doing the best you can here. That's all I could ask for. Mmm, as delicious as ever."

The man thanked her. He carried on in silence.

"Do you miss her?"

Decim looked up from his drying, then in the direction of Nona's pointing finger.

"Yes."

"She was an unusual one."

"Yes."

"Did you learn what you needed to judge her properly?"

"Yes."

Nona's lips quirked.

"I imagine it was difficult regardless."

Decim's wiping slowed.

"No." The man stared at her, through her. Nona sat by quietly waiting for Decim to elucidate on the conclusion. "I created…an extreme circumstance. For both of us. Something I regret and do not regret having done. It is trying for me to put into words. But, once was all said and done, she was not a hard case to judge. What was difficult was saying goodbye."

A genuine smile curled Nona's lips.

"Yes," she whispered.

There.

In the corners of his lips, the crease of his eyes, Nona saw an exquisite sadness. The tender ache of an endearment lost, nestled in a warm wreath of fond memory.

Nona could almost feel the sweet sorrow in the swell of her sore heartbeat.

The manager reached for one of Decim's clean martini glasses and poured what remained of her usual for them both. Her arbiter seemed to hardly notice.

"A toast," Nona raised her glass, "to Chiyuki. That she may find her way…and help us find ours."

Decim's eye widened before he took up the drink.

"To Chiyuki," he agreed, clinking glasses with his boss.

They drank. Nona finished hers and Decim studied his glass with a look of surprise.

"That is quite good."

Nona laughed. "You've never tasted it, have you?"

"No, I do not drink beyond what is needed to remain current."

Nona leaned into her hand and waved her empty glass.

"You've undeniable talent."

"I suppose I am capable of much more than I believed possible."

The arbiters' eyes met.

Decim smiled.

Now Nona's eyes went wide as she straightened; her earrings tinkling. Her surprise melted to a heartfelt grin that knew the tang of hope. Of promise.

Before she realized what she was doing, she had yanked Decim into a tight embrace. Her eyes prickled and she did not understand why. He hugged her back.

"Is everything all right, Miss Nona?"

Nona shook her head as she giggled.

"One more for the road?"

* * *

 **Author's Note: I first witnessed the amazing animation of Death Parade at an anime convention and I was immediately smitten by it. (Type Lorem Ipsum Death Parade by Shin AMV into Youtube, you won't be disappointed.) Watching the series in its entirety, twice (in both languages), I found myself enthralled by the characters. None particularly malevolent or antagonistic; each striving for some goal. But Nona won me over the moment she clotheslined Ginti. Tiny but fierce, that one!**

 **I wanted to try my hand at not only Decim's struggle to understand the unprecedented emotions implanted in him, but also explore Nona's "feelings" on the high stakes end game she's shooting for. I struggled myself trying to balance the fact Decim has feelings and, supposedly, Nona does not. Shouldn't all arbiters be stone faced? Each of them seems to run the gamut of surprise, frustration, anger, and light-hearted banter. It made for an interesting dive into my own humanity. Hopefully it came across all right.**

 **Also, in creating Nona's drink I went off her proclaimed "usual" in episode 2. It was orange. I actually did research on what sorts of martinis would get that pastel orange color and made the rest up as I went. By all means-if anyone cares to try a mix of the random liquors and comes up with something good, I want to hear about it. (Blackfire 18 does not condone anyone under 21 drinking alcohol!)**

 **Seeing as this isn't the largest fandom out there (and that's a shame) I welcome your reviews, dear readers! Give me a holler before that inevitable elevator ride.**

 **Blackfire 18**


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